


Promise

by paperstorm



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, M/M, Michael's POV, bottom!Luke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:18:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2572958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The whole world has this really bad habit of wanting to hit on Luke at every available opportunity and Luke has an equally bad habit of not being aware it’s even happening and flirting back accidentally because that’s just his permanent setting.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

> For Kat <3

There isn’t much Michael doesn’t love about being with Luke – for real, officially, not like when they were in school and it was just kisses and the occasional hand-job and a whole lot of confusion. They’re _together_ now, and mostly, it’s amazing. It’s everything he’s wanted since he was fifteen. Luke is his now. All his; Michael’s to touch and kiss and love. Other people get pieces, but they don’t get everything. They don’t get to touch Luke’s skin first thing in the morning when it’s all warm from sleep. They don’t get to kiss him until he can’t breathe. They don’t get to join him in the shower after a long day and rub soap over his broad shoulders and watch the way his head tips forward, grateful for the soothing contact to his aching muscles. They don’t get to see him when he’s flushed and moaning and biting his lower lip to keep from crying out Michael’s name, because Ashton and Calum are in the next room and they still have _some_ boundaries left.  
  
All those things are reserved just for Michael now, and it’s _almost_ perfect.  
  
The one thing Michael isn’t crazy about is that his stupid boyfriend is way too attractive for his own good. _Normally_ that’s a pretty damn great thing, since Michael gets to look at him, but it becomes a problem when they’re in public because the whole world has this really bad habit of wanting to hit on Luke at every available opportunity and Luke has an equally bad habit of not being aware it’s even happening and flirting back accidentally because that’s just his permanent setting.  
  
It’s only a problem because no one can know about them. Sure, _some_ people do. Calum and Ashton do. Their families do. But not everyone. Which leaves the rest of the world free to line up for a shot at the guy who’s supposed to be _Michael’s_ , and Michael can’t even do anything about it without blowing their cover and ruining the whole freaking thing. He just has to stand there like an idiot and watch it happen, and marinate in the fact that nearly every fan they come across is better looking than Michael is and Luke could have any of them – all of them – and maybe it’s only a matter of time before Luke figures that out.  
  
It’s what Michael’s doing now. They arrived in London for the iTunes Festival a day early, so they’re at David Guetta’s show. It isn’t really Michael’s taste in music – he’d much rather have seen Beck the night before, but the timing didn’t work out – but everyone else wanted to go, so Michael did. He can be amicable when the situation calls for it. Sometimes. Calum and Ashton got lost in the crowd immediately, while Michael stayed near the back of the venue because he already doesn’t want to be here so he’s not thrilled at the idea of being recognized in the throng of music fans. Some parts of being famous really suck.  
  
Luke was with him at first. They weren’t really talking, because the music is too loud for conversation, but he was standing close to Michael, smiling at him every now and then, and that made Michael a little happier about being here. Then Luke leaned in to speak into Michael’s ear at the end of a song, something about wanting to get closer to the stage, and Michael told him to go ahead. Luke had frowned, maybe sensing Michael’s bad mood, but Michael had smiled at him and tried to act like he really didn’t mind if Luke left, so Luke squeezed his hand briefly and then disappeared.  
  
Michael honestly _didn’t_ mind, at first. He doesn’t need to spend every second with Luke. They already spend more time together than they probably should. He stood alone in the back, just listening to the music and enjoying the noise and the buzz of a good live show – the heat and the thump of subwoofers and the smell of sweat. Then he happened to look over to his left, at nothing particular, and caught sight of Luke, maybe fifty feet away, with some girl’s hand on his bicep.  
  
She’s small and pretty, long brown hair that turns to soft curls halfway down her back, in a flowery dress that’s short enough to show off toned, tanned legs. Luke has a thing for legs. Maybe because he’s 70% legs himself. It’s hard to gauge from this far away, but they way they’re just talking – she’s not hugging him or screaming or taking a million selfies – makes Michael think she has no idea who Luke is. She isn’t a fan, she’s just a girl who saw a good looking guy at a concert and struck up a conversation. Luke isn’t resisting whatsoever. He’s all smiles and animated hand gestures and laughs that crinkle his eyes at the corners, and Michael wants to punch something.  
  
He watches, getting angrier by the second, as the girl flirts with Luke blatantly, giggling and tossing her hair and touching him way too much to be natural, and Luke just soaks up the attention like the big, dumb puppy he is sometimes and doesn’t seem to realize how aggressively he’s being hit on. Sometimes Michael wonders how Luke has made it all the way to 18 without being kidnapped.  
  
He tries to pay attention to the show again – telling himself that just because some girl is chatting Luke up, doesn’t mean Luke is just going to throw their whole relationship to the wolves and leave with her. It doesn’t really work. His eyes are drawn to them, watching intently as Luke allows himself to be the object of the girl’s desire and doesn’t act at all like he even understands what’s going on. Michael looks away again, clenching his jaw as jealousy burns hot in his gut. When he looks back, the girl is holding Luke’s arm in one hand and a pen in the other, writing something on his skin. Her phone number, Michael realizes, with a flash of anger so intense it blinds him for a moment. She’s giving him her _number._  
  
Michael is so done with this. He turns on his heel and goes to storm out of the building, and crashes right into Ashton in the process, nearly knocking him over.  
  
“Ow, fuck,” Ashton says, stumbling a little until Michael catches him by the arm and keeps him from falling on his ass. He notices the look on Michael’s face, and leans in closer to be heard over the music – if the choruses of computer-crafted noise can even be called music. Michael’s not feeling so generous about that anymore. “What crawled up your ass and died?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
Ashton raises an eyebrow. “Doesn’t look like nothing.”  
  
Michael gestures in the direction of Luke and the girl, unable to actually look at them and hoping Ashton will find them in the crowd so Michael doesn’t have to talk about it. Ashton looks around, and it takes him a moment to locate what Michael’s pointing to, but then he does.  
  
“They’re just talking, Michael,” he says, his voice faint under the thumping speakers and the way Michael’s racing heart is pulsing blood behind his eardrums.  
  
“I’m gonna get some air.”  
  
He leaves before Ashton can stop him – not that Michael could hear it, even if Ashton was calling after him. Michael finds the van that brought them here, waiting in the alley where the driver said he’d be, and climbs into the back. He excuses his presence to the driver by lying about a stomach ache, and then curls up in the leather bench seat and waits for the show to end. Half an hour later when the rest of the band joins Michael in the van, Ashton climbs into the back with him, while Calum and Luke take the middle seat without acknowledging anything but each other and chat excitedly about the show. Ashton rubs Michael’s leg sympathetically, and Michael has to clench his fists to keep from smacking Luke in the back of the head.  
  
“He loves you,” Ashton whispers, only loud enough for Michael to hear.  
  
“I know,” Michael whispers back, and he does know. Right now, it just doesn’t make him feel any better.  
  
*           *           *  
  
Luke comes up to him, later, back in their hotel room while Michael’s brushing his teeth. They’re sharing, because they always share now, and Calum and Ashton are next door. It’s the first time Michael’s ever wished he _wasn’t_ rooming with Luke.  He moves in behind Michael’s back, wrapping his arms around Michael’s waist. He kisses Michael’s bare shoulder and smiles at him in the mirror. Part of Michael wants to just spin around in Luke’s arms and kiss him hard and mark him up so Luke can’t ever belong to anyone else. The other part of him is still hurt, and that’s the part that wins. He shrugs Luke away from him, spitting toothpaste into the sink and rinsing his mouth and leaving the bathroom.  
  
Luke follows him, and tries again. “Are you, um. Tired?” he asks – his ways of suggesting something involving kissing and nakedness.  
  
“Yeah,” Michael says shortly. He doesn’t look at Luke. He can’t. Not without remembering the way Luke’s eyes lit up while _she_ was talking to him.  
  
“Are you mad at me?”  
  
Luke’s voice is so small and sad that it breaks Michael’s heart a little, even though he’s still trying to be angry. He turns at looks at Luke, a worried frown on his face and his shoulders hunched. Luke always tries to make himself smaller when he’s upset.  
  
“No,” Michael lies. He wishes it were true. What happened tonight isn’t Luke’s fault; not really. Michael knows he isn’t being fair. He just can’t control the way he feels.  
  
“Ashton said you were.”  
  
“When did you talk to Ashton?”  
  
“So, you are mad. What did I do?” Luke asks softly – not believing Michael’s answer.  
  
Michael turns away again and rubs his hands through his hair. “Nothing.”  
  
“Then why are you mad?”  
  
“Because!” Michael explodes, losing grip on his temper all at once. “Because that fucking girl was flirting with you and you were just _letting_ her!”  
  
Luke’s frown deepens. “Lisa?”  
  
Hearing her name makes Michael’s skin crawl like there are spiders all over him. “Unless there was more than one, yeah!”  
  
“I didn’t do anything!” Luke protests.  
  
Michael laughs humorlessly and gestures at Luke’s lower half. “What’s on your arm, asshole?”  
  
“She just grabbed my hand and started writing on me, I didn’t even know what she was writing until she was finished! I didn’t ask for her number.” Luke rubs at the messy scrawl that goes from his elbow to his wrist in exaggerated, girlish print – it smears but doesn’t go away, leaving a long black streak on his pale skin that’s somehow even worse. It’s like she branded him.  
  
“Are you gonna call her?”  
  
Luke holds up his arm and points to the smudge. “Can _you_ read this anymore?”  
  
“ _Were_ you gonna call her?” Michael insists, not letting the point drop even though it’s obvious Luke wants to.  
  
“No! Why the fuck would I call her?”  
  
“Well you didn’t seem to hate her company! You were just standing there, letting her put her hands on you, letting her hit on you!”  
  
“What the hell was I supposed to do?” Luke yells, his eyes wild as he gets upset. “She came up and started talking to me! It’s not like I could tell her I’m with _you_!”  
  
“You could have told her _something_! Or you could have walked away, she didn’t have you tied up!”  
  
Luke just stares at him, shaking his head, his eyes going shiny. “She was _nice_. I was having a conversation with her, you’re acting like I bent her over right there on the floor!”  
  
Michael doesn’t respond. He knows how unreasonable he’s being. He really does. But he’s past the point of rationality. He’s so aware of how easily Luke could have pulled that girl off to the toilets and fucked her against the door of a stall. She would have gone in a heartbeat. And it terrifies him, to think that everything he loves so much could be gone so easily. He looks at the ground, and then Luke is right there, in his space. He puts his hands on Michael’s waist and kisses Michael’s forehead, and it should make Michael feel better but it just makes him feel like an idiot for getting so upset.  
  
“You didn’t even realize she was trying to pick you up, did you?” he asks.  
  
Luke sighs. “Not at first. Before she wrote her number on my arm, I thought we were just talking.”  
  
Michael pulls away from Luke and sits on the edge of the bed. “That’s the _problem_ , Luke.”  
  
“People are gonna talk to me, Michael. I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”  
  
“Some lunatic could have you tied up in the back of a van, halfway to his torture dungeon, and you’d still be asking where the candy he promised you is,” Michael mutters.  
  
Luke sits next to him and laughs a little. “Dramatic.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
Luke laughs again and puts an arm around Michael’s shoulders, and this time Michael lets him. “Sorry.”  
  
Michael shrugs.  
  
“You know, I’m not like … a stray cat, or something,” Luke tells him, moving in a little closer and resting his chin on Michael’s shoulder. “People don’t get to just see me and decide I’m theirs now. Just ‘cause that girl wanted to take me home, doesn’t mean I would’ve let her. I’m with you.”  
  
“I know,” Michael mumbles, feeling like a jerk.  
  
“I _wanna_ be with you.” Luke nudges Michael’s cheek with his nose. “Just you.”  
  
Michael nods and blinks away the tears burning behind his eyes. “She was pretty,” slips out of his mouth beyond his control – nagging feelings that have existed forever creeping back into his conscious. He’s always been worried he isn’t good enough for Luke.  
  
“No one’s prettier than you.” Luke’s voice is lilting – teasing, but also not. It makes Michael’s chest feel funny.  
  
“Shut up,” he says again.  
  
“She wasn’t my type anyway.”  
  
“What’s your type?”  
  
Luke presses a hand to the center of Michael’s chest and pushes him back onto the mattress. He crawls on top of Michael, straddling his hips and dipping down to kiss him. “You.”  
  
Michael still feels jealous and stupid about it, but he pushes his hands up under Luke’s shirt anyway and kisses back, trying to forget the rest of the evening and concentrate on the fact that Luke is here, with him, and not anyone else.  
  
*           *           *

Michael isn’t upset anymore the next day, mostly because he spends the night tangled in the sheets with Luke, and wakes up with Luke wrapped around him like a sloth. It’s warm and comfortable and it makes Michael feel loved. Luke stirs a few moments after Michael does, kissing his neck lazily before his eyes are even open.  
  
“Morning,” he whispers, his voice scratchy from sleep.  
  
“Hi,” Michael whispers back.  
  
“I love you. So much,” Luke murmurs, belaboring the point, but Michael is okay with it. Their set at the festival later that night is one of their best ever, in Michael’s opinion. Luke is amazing, just owning his performance and the entire evening, and Michael’s so proud of him that he forgets everything else.  
  
Then it happens again, a week later, with a fan outside their hotel. And again, a few days after that, with a _male_ fan they meet randomly on the street, and that one gets under Michael’s skin even more than the girl at the concert did. Luke laughs and blushes and gazes at them with his doe-eyes while they undress him with theirs and make suggestive comments that have _Michael_ cringing uncomfortably, and they aren’t even directed at him. Luke doesn’t bat an eyelash – either not knowing or not caring that he’s being flirted with again right in front of Michael. It leaves Michael aching to grab Luke and kiss him to the silent tune of a thousand flashing cameras so everyone would know who he belongs to. And leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth, because he can’t.  
  
The thing is, Michael has known Luke for a long time. He knows the sort of person he is, and he really doesn’t think Luke would go around allowing himself to be hit on so unabashedly if he knew how much it bothered Michael. The only conclusion that makes sense is that he must _not_ know, so Michael, in a haze of resentment and hurt and immaturity he isn’t proud of, decides to _make_ Luke understand.  
  
He waits until they’re backstage at the show in San Antonio, because the only time he’s really ever seen Luke jealous is during their first tour with One Direction when Michael became fast friends with Harry, and Luke never quite succeeded in being subtle about his feelings on the subject. They weren’t together then, not officially anyway, and Michael’s infatuation with Harry was completely platonic but Luke didn’t see it that way at the time. Michael is betting it’s still enough of a sore spot that he can give Luke a taste of his own flirty medicine.  
  
Michael makes a big, stupid show of it. He pulls Harry onto the couch when he comes to visit their dressing room, and cuddles up to him, nuzzling into his neck. He tells Harry how much he’s going to miss him when the tour is over – and that much is true, but Michael over-exaggerates because he can feel Luke’s eyes on them from across the room.  
  
“You can come visit me in London, then,” Harry tells him, and Michael carries on about how sweet he is for it.  
  
“You guys did so much for us. We owe you,” Michael says, sliding an arm around Harry’s thin waist and squeezing. Harry hugs him back without question, because he’s nice like that, and Michael’s going to have to explain things to him later because he really does like Harry and he doesn’t want him to get the wrong idea.  
  
“Happy to do it, you’re amazing lads. All of you,” Harry adds, looking to Michael’s band-mates.  
  
Michael sneaks a peek at them too. Ashton is fighting back a smile – he knows exactly what Michael’s doing, even though Michael didn’t tell him beforehand – Calum is staring at Michael and Harry like they’ve both lost their minds, and Luke is very determinedly _not_ looking at them, but Michael can see a muscle ticking in his jaw. Michael studies Luke’s profile, his usually expressively happy face gone blank and stony. It’s working. Luke isn’t going to say anything in front of everyone, but he’s angry. Michael can tell, and he smiles smugly to himself. He really should be ashamed of that, probably, but he’s just far gone enough not to care.  
  
Luke avoids him during their set, and he _never_ does that. He shares Calum’s mic instead of Michael’s, and pays more attention to Ashton in the back than he usually does, and it leaves Michael off to the side on his own and makes him regret playing with Luke’s emotions for a moment. Then Luke makes some offhand comment about how attractive the crowd is, and Michael remembers being hurt all over again and then he’s glad Luke’s hurting too. Serves the little shit right.  
  
There are people milling around when they finish, setting up for the One Direction boys to take over, and Michael gets trapped in a group that includes Harry. He isn’t really talking _or_ listening to what’s being said, he’s still high off the adrenaline of playing a show so he just sort of stands there in the crowd and tunes out the conversation. Then he feels a presence right next to him, and he turns to find Luke there, staring at him with intense eyes and a down-turned mouth.  
  
“Awesome set, guys!” someone says to them, but Luke ignores them and addresses Michael.  
  
“Can I borrow you for a minute?”  
  
Michael raises an eyebrow and plays dumb. “What for?”  
  
“You know what the fuck for,” Luke mutters under his breath, grabbing Michael roughly by the arm and dragging him away. Luke shoots a glare over his shoulder as they go, probably in Harry’s direction, and Michael feels bad about that.  
  
He lets Luke pull him outside, to the alley behind the building.  
  
“What the hell?” Luke asks loudly as soon as they’re alone, spreading his arms out wide, his expression angry.  
  
“ _What_ the hell?” Michael parrots back.  
  
“Don’t do that, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”  
  
“I really don’t.”  
  
“ _Harry_ ,” Luke snaps.  
  
“What about him?”  
  
Luke stares at him, his eyes widened in disbelief, and then his face changes. Michael can see the moment when something clicks in Luke’s brain. “Holy shit. You did that on purpose. You were _trying_ to make me jealous.”  
  
“So what if I was?” Michael challenges. “Maybe I wanted you to know what it feels like to watch the guy you love all over someone else right in front of you!”  
  
Luke blinks, his mouth open just slightly like it’s trying to form words but has forgotten how. Then he shakes his head, narrows his eyes, mutters, “You’re a dick,” and then he’s gone.  
  
Michael is left alone, in the concrete alley in the dark.  
  
*           *           *  
  
“I am a dick,” Michael says, instead of _hello_.  
  
He finds Luke in their room back at the hotel, sitting alone in the dark. Luke left earlier than everyone else, and Michael got someone to bring him back here because he assumed this is where Luke would be. Luke is on his bed when Michael enters the room, his socked feet tucked up under him, long legs folded so he can wrap his arms around them. He doesn’t look up when Michael walks in, so Michael shuts the door behind himself and goes over to join Luke on the bed. He sits next to Luke, but not touching him, leaning against the headboard behind them. He folds his hands in his lap so he has something to look at.  
  
“That was shitty of me,” he continues, properly ashamed of himself now that he’s had a chance to cool down and mull things over. “I shouldn’t have … any of it.”  
  
“Does it really hurt you that much when people flirt with me?” Luke asks softly. He glances at Michael briefly, his blue eyes shining.  
  
It’s on the tip of Michael’s tongue to deny it, but then he figures being dishonest is what got him into this mess, so maybe being honest will get him out. “Yeah. I know it shouldn’t. I know it’s stupid, but … yeah. It does.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Michael,” Luke whispers. “I didn’t know.”  
  
“I’m the one who should be sorry. It wasn’t cool, what I did. I should’ve talked to you instead.”  
  
“You _did_ talk to me,” Luke argues, sounding upset with himself. “You tried to tell me about this but I didn’t listen.”  
  
Michael nods and doesn’t respond.  
  
Luke lifts his arm like he means to wrap it around Michael, and then hesitates and tentatively asks, “Can I?”  
  
“Yeah,” Michael tells him, smiling when Luke’s arm goes over his head and behind him, and settles draped over his shoulders. Michael slouches down and leans against Luke, and Luke wraps his other arm around Michael too and kisses the top of his head.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he says again.  
  
“Me too.” Michael rests his head on Luke’s chest and inhales his familiar scent.  
  
“Why does it bother you so much?” Luke asks.  
  
Michael closes his eyes and wishes he hadn’t already decided to be honest. He knows the reason, but he doesn’t like admitting it even to himself. “Because they’re probably better than me.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Anyone.”  
  
“That’s …” Luke hugs Michael a little tighter and turns his face into Michael’s hair. “Is that really what you think?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Michael mumbles. He’d never feel safe enough to say these things anywhere but in Luke’s arms, and even still it makes an uncomfortable lump of emotion rise in his throat.  
  
“I _love_ you, stupid,” Luke tells him, his voice cracking a little. “I’m not with you for something to do while I wait for someone better to come along. There is no one better, anyway. You’re worth so much more than you think you are.”  
  
“What if it was Jennifer Lawrence?” Michael jokes, trying to lighten the moment for himself as much as for Luke.  
  
Luke laughs, and nuzzles Michael with his nose. “Even her. I’d pick you every time. You’re the only one I want.”  
  
Michael nods, and tries believe it’s true.  
  
“I do notice, when people flirt with me, you know,” Luke murmurs against Michael’s hair. “The reason I act like I don’t, is because I don’t know what else to do. In my head all I wanna do is tell them to back off because I’m taken. But I can’t. It sucks sometimes, having to hide.”  
  
Michael nods again. That, he does understand. “I keep wanting to run over to you and pick you up and throw you over my shoulder, so people know they can’t have you.”  
  
“Mm,” Luke hums – the low sound reverberates through Michael’s chest. “Too bad you can’t. That’d be hot.”  
  
“Maybe next time I will.”  
  
Luke laughs. “People would freak out, probably.”  
  
“Maybe I don’t care.”  
  
“Maybe I don’t either.”  
  
Michael tips his head back against Luke’s shoulder, angling his chin up, asking for a kiss, and Luke leans down and gives it to him. He brushes his lips softly over Michael’s, and the angle is awkward but it’s still sweet. Michael moves after a moment, readjusting his position in Luke’s arms so he can capture Luke’s mouth in a proper kiss, sweeping his tongue over Luke’s lower lip and pushing it inside. Luke kisses like he does everything else – throwing his whole self into it, no hesitation, no fear that his enthusiasm might not be reciprocated. Michael wishes he had Luke’s confidence. Mostly he just acts like he does.  
  
He slips his hands under the hem of Luke’s t-shirt to feel his warm skin, and then pushes the material up, breaking their kiss for just long enough to pull it over Luke’s head. Luke gets Michael’s shirt off too and then pushes him down onto the mattress, crawling on top of him and covering Michael’s smaller body with his own. He kisses Michael like he might die if he stops, and Michael kisses him back and holds his waist and pushes his quickly hardening cock up into Luke’s hip, the pressure sending tremors of arousal along his veins.  
  
“Wanna show me?” Luke asks, the words a wet smear against Michael’s lips.  
  
“Show you what?”  
  
“Who I belong to.”  
  
There’s an edge to Luke’s voice, like it’s a challenge. A fire lights in Michael’s chest and he grabs Luke and flips them over, landing roughly on top of him and knocking the wind out of both of them a little – he dives back in for another hungry kiss before either of them have a chance to catch their breath. If Luke wants Michael to claim him, Michael is more than happy to do it.  
  
He grinds against Luke as they kiss, fully hard now and dizzy with it. Michael can feel Luke’s stiff flesh against his hip, a hot, hard length, straining against his skin-tight jeans.  
  
“C’mon,” Luke mutters, shoving at Michael’s jeans, not able to get them off because of the way their bodies are pressed together.  
  
Michael rolls off Luke just long enough for both of them to shimmy out of their pants, and to get up and grab lube and a condom from his bag. He attacks Luke’s mouth again when he crawls back on top of him, his hands blindly fumbling with the tube of clear gel, squeezing it onto his fingers and spreading it around and then reaching between Luke’s legs and shoving one finger into him without warning him first. All the air leaves Luke’s lungs in one quick huff, and he moans and his eyes slam shut and he pushes back against Michael’s finger, silently asking for more. Michael gives Luke what he wants – opens him up quick and dirty while he licks into his mouth.  
  
“Now, come on,” Luke urges, not in the mood for slow, and it’s a damn good thing because Michael isn’t either.  
  
He reaches for the condom he tossed next to Luke’s hip earlier, but Luke grabs Michael’s wrist to stop him, and shakes his head.  
  
“Don’t want it.”  
  
Michael frowns. They’ve never done that before. “Are you sure?”  
  
Luke shakes his head. “Wanna feel just you.”  
  
Michael is hit with another intense wave of arousal, but he’s still unsure, because his practical side is warning him it’s a bad idea.  
  
“There’s no one else, right?” Luke reasons, briefly tugging his lip-ring between his teeth. “Just you and me. So it’s okay.”  
  
Michael bites his own lip, and then nods. He thinks it’s Luke’s way of apologizing, and Michael doesn’t need him to, but the idea of being bare inside Luke is too good to pass up. He tosses the condom aside and rubs lube over his cock instead, closing his eyes as he does because his own hand feels way too good – he’s so far gone already and they’ve barely begun.  
  
Luke is reaching for him when Michael opens his eyes, so he crawls back over him, one hand wrapped around the base of his cock to guide it into Luke’s body. Luke’s breath hitches when Michael pushes inside, but he tells Michael not to stop, so he doesn’t. It’s better than he could’ve imagined, being sheathed just in Luke’s tight, slick heat, and an embarrassingly desperate noise rips from Michael’s throat when he bottoms out and he’s surrounded by nothing but Luke.  
  
“Move,” Luke tells him, sliding his fingers sweetly over Michael’s cheek.  
  
“In a minute,” Michael grinds out from between clenched teeth.  
  
“I’m okay,” Luke insists.  
  
“I’m not,” Michael says, laughing a little in spite of himself. “Feels way too fuckin’ good.”  
  
“Yeah?” Luke sounds pleasantly surprised. “Can I, um, do you like this? Some time?”  
  
Michael kisses him. “How about later tonight?”  
  
Luke squeezes his muscles around Michael’s cock, and looks way too freaking pleased with himself when Michael moans. “You better get on with it, then.”  
  
“Bossy,” Michael mutters, but he starts moving his hips anyway.  
  
Slowly at first, and then faster, they settle into the rhythm they’ve perfected over the months they’ve been together. It’s familiar and brand new at the same time, and Michael is way too turned on for this to last nearly as long as he’d like. Another time, he promises himself, he’s going to jerk off like six times during the day so he can spend a whole night with Luke, touching and teasing and bringing each other right to the edge before backing off, over and over until they go crazy.  
  
“Fuck, right there,” Luke rasps, and then cries out when Michael hits the same spot.  
  
“You are all fuckin’ mine,” Michael growls, biting gently at Luke’s shoulder and loving the responding moan that vibrates between them.  
  
“Yours,” Luke agrees breathlessly. He wraps his legs around Michael’s waist and pulls him down so they’re flush together, his cock rubbing between their stomachs as Michael rocks into him.  
  
“Say it again,” Michael demands.  
  
“Always yours, Mikey,” Luke promises.  
  
Michael moans too, and drops his head to rest against Luke’s neck while he quickens the pace of his hips.  
  
“Harder,” Luke whimpers.  
  
“Ask me nicely,” Michael says, mostly joking but then nearly unravels when Luke obliges shamelessly and groans, “ _Please_. Fuck me harder, Michael, please.”  
  
The noises he makes, the way Michael’s name sounds in Luke’s scrubbed-out voice, like burnt sugar and whiskey, is all too much. Michael moves faster, his head spinning as he slowly loses control. Luke’s blunt fingernails dig into Michael’s back and he pushes back against him, meeting Michael thrust for thrust. He tenses, suddenly, and moans in Michael’s ear, and the space between them floods with sticky heat. It’s all the permission Michael needs to let go, and he falls over the edge into dizzy, spinning bliss and feels Luke holding on tight, keeping Michael from coming apart.  
  
Michael rolls slowly off Luke when his head stops pounding, laughing a little because he’s happy. His head drops to one side, looking over at Luke, who’s grinning at him shyly – back to his sweet, bashful self now that the intensity of the moment is broken. His cheeks are flushed and his hairline is dotted with sweat and there’s a splatter of come on his stomach, and he’s beautiful like this. Michael loves him so damn much.  
  
He reaches for Luke and tugs at him, pulling Luke’s floppy, boneless form into his arms. He drags the sheets up over them, deciding they need a nap first if they’re going to go again later. Michael lives for having Luke in his arms. Even before they became more than friends, they used to snuggle in Michael’s bedroom and it always made Michael feel … safe. And understood. He loves Calum and Ashton, but no one gets him like Luke does. No one ever has.  
  
“The next time someone hits on me, I’ll make an excuse to leave as soon as I can,” Luke says softly.  
  
“You don’t have to. I was being stupid.”  
  
“No you weren’t.” Luke kisses Michael’s neck and cuddles in closer. “Besides, I kinda like you jealous.”  
  
Michael chuckles. “I kinda like _you_ jealous.”  
  
“I’m all yours, though, I meant that,” Luke says, secretly; like he’s promising Michael more than just the actual words he’s saying.  
  
“I’m all yours, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> [follow me on tumblr if you want!](http://paper-storm.tumblr.com/)


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